tandem

June. Finally. And...it's raining.  But rain or shine, the school year is almost over and it will be our first summer in our new home.  I'm looking forward to lazy days, reading a book a day, and enjoying the nature just minutes from our doorstep.  But first, I have to get through report cards, restless students, and cleaning up my mess of a classroom.  It will get done.  Last week Michael and I celebrated our fourteenth wedding anniversary.  He surprised me with a bicycle built for two, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. Our friend Dave, took pictures, and we all had a good laugh as Michael and I tried to maneuver an old tandem.  It was perfect.  Just like the day we got married.  That sunny May morning, fourteen years ago, was a day I will never forget.  We were only kids, but I knew our marriage would be strong.  If only I could have predicted how much strength we were to need.  But our love has deepened, to a place that can't be expressed in words.  All I know, is despite all the pain and sorrow, we are continuing to seek joy as a couple.  We created our angel Luka with our love, and I know in time we will create another beautiful child, who will get to witness our love for a longer time.  As we laughed and played amongst the tall pine trees on our bicycle built for two,  I'm sure Luka danced in the wind and the trees, giggling right along with us.

pink blossoms

It's been a beautiful weekend, and my heart is full.  My life has been blessed in the past few weeks, with love, friendship, and a true sense of joy that I haven't felt in a long time.  I am truly starting to feel happy again.  Our new place has been the biggest gift to Michael and I.  The space, the newness, the beauty of it, and being able to add as much colour as we can in our living environment.  Being close to the river, running the trails, cooking dinners in our open kitchen, and having the best baths in my big tub, has invigorated my spirit.  And on this lovely, warm, Mother's day evening,  I have just planted some colourful plants, to honour Luka, and celebrate my being a mother.   Sadly, my little tree we planted last year for Mother's day, did not survive the winter.  But today, as we visited the plant nursery, with our wonderful friends Dave and Leanne, and their little one, my eyes caught a beautiful pink blossomed hydrangea, and I knew it was the one we would be planting this year.  We are so blessed to have found such true and present friends, who have welcomed us into their lives.  Holding their beautiful baby is a gift, and makes me believe anything is possible.  And so, as Michael cooks dinner, I thank the universe for all it continues to bring me, the beauty of the earth, and the warmth of friendship.  And thank you Luka for visiting in the gentle morning breeze.  Happy Mother's Day, little one.  I love you.

strength

 That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
William Wordsworth

This week is over, and I am relieved.  April has been a month of excitement, anticipation, and bitter disappointment.  But I am still standing.  Barely.  Our new place is wonderful. We have so much space, nearby trails to go walking, a beautiful kitchen to cook in, and three bathrooms!  Everyday I grow to love it more.  I've spent a lot of time here in the last two weeks, recovering from yet another pregnancy loss.  We were eight weeks in, and Michael and I both thought this was the one.  My mother in law could feel it in her bones, and truth be told, so did I.  But, the universe decided that it wasn't to be, again.  It's been a crazy roller coaster, because for one whole week, we thought there might be a possibility that it was just a threatened miscarriage.  At an emergency ultrasound we saw a heartbeat, but it was very slow.  We so wanted to believe it would work out.  Our hearts were open, ready for a little miracle.  Sadly, I miscarried a couple of days later.  Part of me wants to scream, part of me wants to run away, and the rest of me wants to start trying again tomorrow.  I've gone through the whole gamete of emotions this week, from completely giving up, to hating the universe again, to complete acceptance, and then back to giving up.  And as I write this, I'm not sure where I stand.  What I do know, is that I need to move on.  Move forward.  Start running the trails.  Spend time in the sun.  Go for walks in the spring rain.  Open my window and listen to the birds in the morning.  Have friends over for dinners.  Go hiking.  Spend time with my loving husband.  Create a meditation room. Watch a ton of MadMen and Modern Family.  Laugh with my students at school. Start a theatre company.  Meet new people.  Spend time with close friends.  Cuddle with our kitty Willow.  I could go on and on.  There's still so much to live for.  Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I angry? Yes. But, I have come to the conclusion that this is my journey.  Before I lost Luka, my life was pretty simple and easy.  I worked hard in school, but it wasn't hard to find a job. I never struggled to find love, in fact, I found it early.  I've never wanted something so much, and not been able to have it.  And to accept the possibility of it not happening, ever, is very challenging.  My friend Amber once told me, when she was going through a rough patch in her life, that sometimes giving up is easier than letting go.  At the time, we laughed it off.  This week, it makes sense.  On the phone this week my midwife told me I was strong.  I thanked her, and when I got off the phone,  I began to think about strength.  I certainly don't feel strong. Stubborn, maybe.  Scared, mostly.  I've been through a lot in the past two years, and I realize it's the people around me who have made me stronger.  Family and friends who have stuck by me, who have listened, made me laugh, helped me see the joy of life, and given me hope.  I find strength in others who have also gone through tragedy and come through smiling, wiser and loving life even more.  As I crawl into bed tonight, my oh so comfortable bed, and listen to the rain fall, I know that this too shall pass, and my heart will mend.  And, just maybe in a few weeks, or a few months,  I'll forget about giving up, and want to try again.
                                             The best way out is always through. – Robert Frost

spring

As I look out the window and wish for sunshine, I am grateful that even without the sun, spring is in the air.  Some of the trees are budding, the magnolia trees by my school are ready to open, and the robins are back.  And I feel like I am back too, and the fog is clearing.  I haven't written a blog in a very long time.  I was worried I would have nothing more to write.  But in the last week, the need to write has brought me to the computer on a quiet, overcast and rainy Sunday morning.  The only sounds are the humming of the refrigerator and the energetic play of my hyper kitten, Willow, as she races from one room to the other.  It's been a challenging couple of months, but wonderful things have happened as well.  Michael started a new teaching job, we got a kitten, we bought a new house, and we had several visits to the fertility doctor.  We are very excited about our new place, and we move in at the end of the month.  Change.  Something we have wished for, and something we have manifested.  Our place is beautiful: close to the river trail,  near coffee shops and grocery stores, and is our first home we have ever owned.  It will be very sad to leave our mountain, our view, and our wonderful friends and landlords, Vivan and Lorne, who have become our surrogate parents.  They have truly blessed our lives with their friendship.  My health is starting to improve, and although I put my back out in February,  I feel much better than I did before Christmas.  And after multiple blood tests, (17 vials, to be exact) and a special ultrasound, Michael and I received the news that we are a fertile couple, and there is nothing preventing us from having a healthy baby.   Our journey to get pregnant and stay pregnant, is just life, and unexplained.  We had a wonderful meeting with the kindest, optimistic, and heartfelt genetic counselor, who assured us that it will happen.  It was such a relief to know that our struggles are unexplained.  The genetic counselor was surprised that I felt that way, because for some couples, it makes it more frustrating.  For me,  I felt free again.  Free to love the mystery.  Free to trust the universe.  Free to really believe.  Am I scared and nervous? Absolutely.  But, for the first time since Luka was born, I don't feel fearful of it not happening.  As much as I appreciate and am thankful for modern medicine,  sometimes the mystery of conception and birth is taken away by all the answers.  From my experience, we will never know all the answers to the beautiful gift we call life.  As we get ready for our move, and I think about leaving this beautiful mountain retreat,  I have been reflecting on the past four years.  We have made wonderful friends, shared and borrowed Sassy, our neighbour's dog, watched deer and bobcats go by our front door,  and watched beautiful sunrises and sunsets from our bedroom window.   It is in this home, that we conceived Luka and where she grew for nine months.  She was our greatest joy, deepest pain, and biggest gift.  And now,  as I wrestle with all the emotions of leaving this place,  I know we are beginning a new chapter in our lives.  The other evening after I came home from school, the storm clouds blew in.  Amid the rain and sleet, there was a moment where the sun burst through the clouds,  and created the most glorious rainbow.  As I watched it unfold, I gave thanks to the universe, for reminding me of the beautiful mystery of life, the beginning of change, and the opening of the door to all that is possible.

the invisible line

It's been over a month since my last blog, and I have been avoiding writing even though there has been an entry swirling in my head for the past week.  It's been a challenging month, and I have been, and continue to be, through some real ups and downs.  At the moment I am in the constant flux of anxiousness and optimism.  If you don't know me well,  I can be an extremely anxious person.  Over the years I have conquered a great deal of my nerves and over analyzing mind.  But in the last month, my mind has decided it wants control, and my body is now in process of battling the ever powerful mind.  In the last month, I have started to see a counselor.  In our discussions, we came to the conclusion that the mind can be really cruel to the body.  It can tell us lies and can confuse our intuition.  I have also decided that I am a catastrophizer.  I am someone who allows my mind and imagination to only think of the worst situation.   I have always been a worrier, ever since I read my dad's 1960's medical encyclopedia's when I was a little girl, convincing myself I had every disease.  And now, after Luka's death,  I am worried that everything is going to be one big catastrophe.  Everything surrounding Luka's birth was supposed to be beautiful and peaceful, and it ended up being the worst thing that has ever happened to me.  So, I think it makes perfect sense that I would allow my mind to start believing everything important and meaningful that will happen in my life will be disastrous.  And so this has been the cycle of my thoughts for most of December, and now into January.  I'm working on staying optimistic, and there are days where I overwhelmingly feel that 2012 will be the best year we've had in a long time.  Michael got a new teaching job, which he is very excited about.  We met a wonderful new couple, who we just instantly clicked with, and I can't wait to get to know them more.  My friend Marie, is getting married on the beach in the summer , and so summer holidays will be an adventure down the Oregon and California coast.  We're starting the process of having fertility testing,  and it looks promising.  There are so many things to be grateful for, and to look forward to.  But there are some days where it feels like there is this invisible line in my mind which divides my optimism and my anxiety.  Some mornings I wake up and wonder which side I will be on.  It's those days where I don't want to get out of bed, where I don't want to face the world.  But I do.  Because life is too short to ignore what I've been given.  And the choice to face the day, gives me the opportunity to end up on the optimistic side of the line.  I'm working on it.  And there's nothing like a new kitten to help me remember to play, be in the moment, and take naps when you should be planning your school day.  Willow is our newest member of our household.  A new life to distract me from my irrational mind, and keep me laughing.  We adopted her yesterday, exactly a year and a half since Luka was born and died.  A perfect gift to remind us of how precious our daughter was and always will be.  I'm hoping that as this year continues, my heart and my soul will not only win the battle over my anxious ridden mind, but I will find balance and continued optimism.  And with all this work and healing, I hope the invisible line will become a positive one, and remain that way for nine months and beyond.

when life catches up to you

I've been at  home sick, and as I slowly get better,  I've realized two things.  My life needs a change, and I still desperately miss Luka.  Life has caught up to me, and in the last month,  my body and my mind, has finally said "enough".  Going back to work two months after Luka died was what felt right at the time.  I needed to keep busy, and I had some great things happen for me professionally last year.  But this year it feels like I am dragging my feet.  It seems like time is trudging along, and nothing ever seems to give.  It's like one obstacle after another, and I wonder if we will reach the other side.  Joy.  It seems so far off and yes, a million people will tell me to find the joy in the small stuff.  And I do.  I laugh and have fun at improv on Friday nights.  My friend Marie, is always a phone call away when I need a good dose of comedy mixed with cynicism.  I went to the Muppets, and remembered the simpleness of Sunday evening, when there was nothing in the world expect Kermit the frog singing the Rainbow Connection.  But I want that joy of anticipation, the joy of waiting for something amazing to happen, the excitement of what lies ahead.  This afternoon, I spent some time looking through the pictures we took of Luka when she was born, her little life and when she died.  I haven't looked at them closely in a long time.  My whole body just wants to hold her again.  I'm still in disbelief that Michael and I created a tiny human being. And I am still in disbelief that I had to let her go. My heart longs for her. There are days when it feels like yesterday and the pain is still as strong. On a positive note, we have an appointment with our first fertility counselor in two weeks, thanks to the amazing genetic doctors at Children's hospital. They referred us and got us an appointment.  I realize some couples wait months to see a fertility expert, so I am ever so grateful for this opportunity.  They reassured us that the problem is not that we are infertile, we just need to find a way to stay pregnant, and carry a healthy baby to term. I'm hoping that this path leads us to what we desire, but in the meantime,  Michael and I have made the commitment to make change in our own lives, whatever that may be.  I also need to start taking care of myself.  I threw myself into my job last year, because it's what got me through.  Now, it's time to start focusing on my mental and physical health. Michael and I talk about our future, and how we will look back at these two years of our lives, and say to ourselves, "Wow, we survived that.. can you believe it!"  I hope that conversation happens.  Maybe it's selfish to think that my life is so hard, when there are so many people going through so many awful things.  But I write this blog, because this is how I feel, in the moment, and it is part of my continual healing process.  I am grateful to all those who read it, and send their loving thoughts.  Thank you for listening to our journey.

disappointment

Another month gone and not pregnant.  The roller coaster of waiting, anticipating, hoping and then pure disappointment. I can't do this anymore.  It has become an obsession and my life is all about conceiving a child.  Yesterday,  Michael and I decided it is time for some investigating about why we're having trouble getting pregnant and staying pregnant.  I'm not sure why we we've been avoiding it, but it's time to meet Dr. Fertility, whomever and whatever that may be.  I'm nervous, because I never wanted to be "that" couple, but we are.  The anxiety every month as we wait for my cycle to reveal a positive pregnancy test, is enough to send us both into a deep depression when it instead comes up negative.  Really, these tests are to torture women who are very aware of their cycles.  We have way too much information these days,  and in a must-know-now society,  early pregnancy tests just perpetuate the instantaneous need to know the moment you are pregnant.  Whoever invented the home pregnancy test must be very wealthy.  So, now we wait for a referral to a fertility specialist, which could take months.  My question, is do we keep trying during that time?  Am I willing to risk the disappointment?   In all of this searching and longing, we also have come to the conclusion that we are in desperate need of some change.  We have never been people to stick around one place for a long period of time.  I'm itching for an adventure.  If it's not going to be a baby adventure, then maybe we need to take a big risk and do something completely out of the ordinary.  Overall, life in the past few months has been disappointment after disappointment.  I am grateful for all my friends, my wonderful home overlooking the valley, and a job that pays the bills.  But something is missing.  Something that makes my heart sing when I wake up in the morning.  I think I deserve that feeling.   Right now I feel like I'm living in the no-thingness, which I know I need to embrace, and allow the energy to flow the way it needs to flow. This too shall pass.  We can't give up hope.  The universe might be providing a challenge, but what it doesn't know is that Michael and I aren't ones to give up.  I will hold my baby in my arms before I am forty.  All I ask is for the universe to keep letting in the glimmer of light, and the strength to believe that it will happen.